


Avengers x Reader Preferences

by empressofevil



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 12:52:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressofevil/pseuds/empressofevil
Summary: Preferences for the following:-Tony Stark- Steve Rogers- Thor Odinson- Loki Leufeyson- Natasha Romanoff- Clint Barton (AU where his family didn't happen)- Vision- Sam Wilson- T'challa- Scott Lang- Bucky Barnes- Stephen Strange- Peter Parker





	Avengers x Reader Preferences

**Author's Note:**

> Y/N = Your first name  
> L/N = Your last name

-Tony Stark  
He bought the company that ran your lab. You were a small bio-engineering tech company, specializing in Stem cell research and recreating lost limbs. Your lab conducted some of the most advanced biological work in the world, but it was also one of the messiest places on Earth. The litter of papers on the floor had never bothered you, but one day your new boss decided to take a tour of the facility.  
"Y/N." Your manager said, attempting to grab your attention. You let out a tired groan, not looking up from the video you had been watching. It was of an arm bending backwards and forwards. Your right hand was absentmindedly taking notes on the movement.  
"Y/N." He said again. "We want you to meet the new owner of Magnus enterprises, Tony Stark." He said, before sighing at your lack of communication. He was about to say something else, but his buzzing phone silenced him. He looked apologetically at Tony.  
"Sorry, It's my wife. I have to take this." He said, and before Tony could answer he walked out of the door and down the corridor.  
Tony bent down, picking up a stack of papers off of the floor, rifling through them. "So, you're doing Stem Cell research?" He asked, you paused the video and turned in your chair, locking eyes with him.  
~Holy sh*t, that's Tony Stark~  
"I, umm, Hi," you mumbled, a little shocked. You desperately tried to make yourself look decent. "Yes, I'm doing Stem Cell research to aid in regrowing limbs. Now, its just skin and minor organs, but with research and development, could regrow whole limbs. I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N." You rambled, sticking out your hand for him to shake. He took it, shaking before turning back to the papers he had collected.  
"Tell me more about your research." He said, and you were a little shocked when he seemed to be listening and responding.

\- Steve Rogers  
You were in charge of souping up his motorbike.  
"So you want a vintage world war two style paint job and customized accessories?" You asked, clarifying the order. You were standing in your garage, assessing the motorbike he had brought you. "Sounds like a difficult job..." You said, looking at the Harley Davidson sitting in the middle of your workshop. "Luckily for you, I love a challenge." You finished, smiling like an idiot. You never got to work with Harley's.  
"So you can do it?" He asked, excitement creeping into his voice. He'd wanted this for a while  
"Sure then, Ken Doll." You said cheekily, referring to his superhuman figure.  
"Ken Doll?" He chuckled, remembering Tony drunkenly singing the "Barbie Girl" song, arm in arm with Steve in front of a thousand people, and later on the entire audience of YouTube. "No, I'm Steve Rogers." He said, introducing himself.  
"I figured. The unique order tipped me off." You said, waving the clipboard in circles in the air. "That and... well, THAT." You said, gesturing to him. "Nobody has a body like that naturally. That's super-soldier right there."  
Your cheeks turned red and you looked away, in awe of the fact that you actually SAID that. Sure, your headstrong and don't exactly have a filter, but that was seriously stupid! What were you thinking?  
"I'm Y/N, by the way." You finally said once you felt your cheeks return to a normal color, picking up the spanner off of your desk and turning back to him.  
"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He said, smiling his charming smile and holding out his hand for you to shake.

\- Thor Odinson

You were one of Sif's trainee's and one of the best young warriors in Asgard. You fought with honor, moved with justice and quickly became a known force throughout the Nine-realms. However, most of your time was spent on Asgard, training and preparing for war. Usually, you trained alone against stick-people, but one day Sif asked you to take a partner.  
"Who?" you questioned, unsheathing your golden sword and slinging it over one shoulder.  
"Thor Odinson." Your eyes almost bugged out of your skull. Were you training with the prince? "Usually, he trains with Loki, but he's dead," Sif said, her voice filled less with sadness and more with annoyance. You understood that.  
"How many times is it now?" You asked, curious.  
"Three." She said with a sigh, turning and gesturing for Thor to step forward. He bowed his head to her, then to you as you stepped into the training area.  
"Your Highness." You said, bowing to him, a custom of ritualized combat.  
"Lady Y/N, please, call me Thor," He said, before turning Mjolnir over in his hand, preparing to swing. You grasped your swords handle with both hands and swung a few practice strokes in the air.  
"I hope you don't think I'm going to go easy on you just because you're the prince." You stated, smirking to yourself.  
"I wouldn't dream of it." He said, before jumping into battle.

\- Loki Leufeyson  
You were an "Avenger". Why the air quotes, you ask? Well, technically, you were the Avengers phycologist, as well as a woman with crazy telepathic powers. You preferred to stay off of the battlefield if it was possible. Instead, you focused on helping your friends and colleges feel better after long battles. Somehow, you always knew just what to say to help. You were a good person, or at least, you tried to be.  
It was hard when people like Loki were constantly being dropped at your feet.  
Loki had joined the avenger, you noted, and he seemed to do it of his own free will, which is frankly amazing for what seemed to be such a chaotic being. However, you were still dubious. Partially because of all the horror stories the Avengers had told you about his pranks and chaotic deeds and partially because he was half an hour late for his therapy appointment. You were about to give up on him and go get some food (You were starving, you'd been working all day) when he finally decided to make an appearance, strolling through the door to your office like he owned the place.  
"You're late." You almost snapped at him.  
He took a seat on the sofa across from you, looking you up and down and trying to evaluate you. "My apologies, princess, I had other matters to attend too." He said. His voice was calm and sensuous, like silk or marshmallows. Anyone else would have fallen under his spell.  
You weren't buying it.  
"That's not a good enough reason." You said, determined to stand up to him. "I don't know how things run on Asgard, but here on Earth, we turn up to our appointments, and we are nicer to the people who give up their time for you." You said, trying to look as powerful as possible and not at all like a woman who has more than once slept in her office. In fact twice. This week.  
He was quiet for a minute, then he smiled a devilish smirk and leaned back on the sofa.  
"I like you, Y/N." He said simply. "I think we'll get along."  
You rolled your eyes. "Sure. Now, let's get started. we've already lost 35 minutes." You said, delving right into the session.

\- Natasha Romanoff  
You're a CIA seduction specialist. It's your job to enter bars, restaurants and high society parties and seduce rich, powerful men for information. Once they were asleep, you'd steal from them. You were a spy, yes, but a very specific type of spy. You weren't a fighter, though you could protect yourself if you needed too, you preferred to love than to hurt. You were damn good, too.  
Tonight, you were at a charity auction. You were dressed in some of your best finaries, a dress designed by the gods to make men drool, and sent to bid on a couple of items and seduce the main guest, a man named Alexander Brice. Little did you know, you weren't the only one there.  
A beautiful redhead slipped into the chair next to you as the bidding began, the auctioneer showing of a vase that was both ugly and expensive.  
"Hello there." She cooed, flicking her hair over her shoulder and looking you up and down. Your dress left little to the imagination, and you crossed your legs, the thigh slit showing off all of your leg and part of your lacy underwear. That didn't go unnoticed by her since she smirked. "CIA?" She asked. You were a little taken back but quickly put two and two together.  
It was your turn to look her up and down, your eyes lingering on the low-cut neckline of her dress. "SHIELD?" You asked. She nodded, and you nodded in response.  
"Natasha." She said, purposefully leaving out her last name, like any good spy.  
"Y/N." You responded, taking the back of her hand and pressing a feather soft kiss to it. It was one of your seduction moves, but you thought that it might apply here too. She chuckled, patting your hand, obversely used to having the moves put on her.  
"Which one are you aiming for?" You asked.  
Natasha pointed to the Auctioneer with a red fingernail. "Daniel Liabre, believed to be smuggling diamonds through the underground market." She explained, and you nodded along. "What about you?" She asked.  
You gestured to the main man, sitting in the front row. "I'm going for the big one." You said, licking your lips. She whistled softly under her breath.  
"Good luck." She said, before bidding on the most hideous lamp.

\- Clint Barton  
You were a SHIELD officer who was placed on the "Hawkeye project." You had no idea that basically means Hawkeye's babysitter. You go on missions with him and help him out with paperwork.  
You met him a day after you were placed into the project. You walked into the kitchenette which was shared with the whole floor, only to see a man in a black and purple suit about to stick a fork into a toaster.  
"What are you doing!?!" You shrieked, running over and knocking the fork out of his hand, He looked at you with a confused expression.  
"What?" He asked, looking at the toaster.  
"Are you crazy?!?" You screeched. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? That's metal and that's a toaster! Did nobody ever teach you not to do that!" You asked, your voice going so high that it really only should have been audible to dogs.  
"Ummm... I'm sorry?" He said, not sure of what to do. "That was pretty stupid." He finished, looking at you. Your anger faded and you nodded, letting out a chuckle.  
"I'm Hawkbarton. I mean Clinteye. Wait, I meant...." He stuttered over his words, looking like a total idiot. "I'm Hawkeye." He finally said, holding out his hand for you to shake. So this was the man you were supposed to be working with.  
You sighed, shaking his hand. "I'm Y/N." You said.  
"You seem very nice." He blurted out.  
You blushed slightly. "Wow. Thank you." You mumbled, before sniffing her air. "What the hell are you cooking?" You asked, recoiling noticeably.  
He smiled and proceeded to show you a beer-battered egg and bacon waffle, the most unholy concoction you'd ever seen.

\- Vision  
You worked with Tony Stark, developing technology that Stark designs. You also helped to fix technology that got broken, which is how you met Vision.  
He came in one day, whilst Tony was out eating lunch with Bruce and Steve. You were working on a couple of Tony's smaller robots when he floated into the lab, carrying one of his severed arms in the other.  
"Tony Stark?" He called out as he floated through the door. "Tony?"  
You looked up from the robot parts you were working on, putting down the soldering iron and walking around your desk to see him.  
"Um... Hello?" You whispered, looking at him. He was unlike anything you've ever seen, amazingly detailed and stunningly regal. "Are you... You're the Vision, right?" You stuttered, anxious and in complete awe of him. If your sister could see you freeze like this, she would freak out.  
"Yes, I am the Vision. Who are you, and where is Stark?" He asked, his voice monotoned and smooth.  
"I'm Y/N, Stark's apprentice. He's not here right now, I'm sorry... What happened?" You asked, gesturing to his arm.  
"I was involved in a battle with black market vibranium traders, they had a machine which tore it straight off. I was hoping that Mr. Stark could reattach it." He said, placing the severed part of his arm on a table.  
"Well, He's not here and he probably won't be back for a while." You said, knowing full well that he'd probably be out drinking by now, and not back for hours, and even when he did come back, he wouldn't be in a state to do any good work. "But, If you're alright with it, I could try and help out. I'm pretty good with a soldering iron." You asked, looking for a solution.  
He looked at you for a second, before smiling. "I'd be alright with that." He said as you lead him to your desk and began to solder the bend and soldered pieces off his arm off.

\- Sam Wilson

You were a waitress in a restaurant he happened to walk into. It had been raining that day, absolutely pouring down, and the man came in looking for somewhere safe and dry. You showed him to a table and gave him a menu. You couldn't shake the feeling that you had seen him somewhere before, but you couldn't quite remember where, so you just tried to forget about it. In fact, it wasn't until you were carrying food to him that it finally clicked, and you were so shocked that you almost dropped the plates you were holding.  
"Your Sam Wilson!" You whispered, shock evident in your voice. He looked at you confused.  
"Yes?" He said, confused. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" He asked. You shook your head, chuckling to yourself. It seemed so stupid now.  
"I've been to a couple of talks you did on PTSD at the DVA. It really helped me, what you said." You said, aware that you sounded like a total idiot right now. To your surprise, he smiled at you.  
"Did you serve?" He asked. For almost anyone else, that question was a grave insult, but for some reason, you didn't mind when he asked.  
You nodded. "Two tours in the army. Afganistan," you explained. "I'm Y/N." You introduced yourself, smiling brightly. You were about to say more when a shout pulled you away.  
"Y/N! TABLE 9 WANTS THERE CHECK!" Your manager yelled. You smiled apologetically at Sam.  
"Duty calls. I'll talk to you later." You said before running away to deal with other customers.

\- T'Challa

You were a journalist covering the opening of the Wakandan Outreach center.  
Everything here was so nice. Everyone was wearing fine clothes and jewelry, drinking expensive wine and laughing merrily. You, on the other hand, were dressed in a white button-up shirt and black pencil skirt with bits of leftover lunch stuck on it. You looked like a fish out of the water. You looked like a total misfit. You looked like, well, a reporter.  
The main event was being held in the biggest room in the outreach center, which happened to also be part of the museum. Glass cases lined every wall displaying Wakandan artifacts and history, and you loved all of it. In fact, at one point, you completely blocked out the rest of the party and just walked the room, reading and rereading every tablet, every piece of information. It startled you, and it excited you. This was new and amazing and incredible. You blocked out the outside world so much that you didn't hear the man calling out for you, or anything until someone placed a hand on your shoulder. Instantly, you snapped back, pulling away and shrieking, not loud enough to distract anyone but definitely loud enough to make the people close to you turn their heads. It was not a lady-like sound. You turned to face your attacker, ready to swear up a god-damn storm and found...  
The king of fucking Wakanda.  
"Your majesty, I'm so sorry." You said, looking down at the ground, embarrassment painting your cheeks red. "I'll get out of your way..." You said, moving to his left. He softly grabbed your arm, stopping you.  
"Don't be absurd, it was all my fault. I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that. Didn't you hear my approach? I called your name." He paused. "You are Y/N, correct?" He asked.  
Holy sh*t, he knows your name. The king knows your name. for a moment, you hated yourself for taking up precious brain space in his gorgeous mind. Wait, what?  
You shook your head, trying to gather yourself. "Yes, I'm Y/N." You said, holding out your hand for him to shake. You got a pleasant surprise when he raised it to his lips and kissed the back sweetly. you could feel your cheeks reddening.  
"Thank you." You said, subconsciously rubbing the back of your hand where he had kissed. You looked around nervously at the other guests, who were looking at you half in awe, half in envy.  
"You do not seem to be enjoying yourself? What brought you here?" He asked.  
"I'm an international reporter, or, at least, I'm trying to be. My paper keeps trying to clip my wings, making me do those stupid little buzzword facebook articles with no real journalism, just pandering to an aisle for clickbait." You groan sadly.  
T'Challa spoke thirty different languages, and yet somehow he only understood half of the words in that sentence.  
"So I gotta make this article good. Not that that will be difficult, this place is amazing!" you fangirled almost relentlessly. "I mean, look at this!" you said, gesturing to the cabinets with a childish sense of awe and wonder. You pointed to your favorite things, asking questions and rambling facts like an overactive toddler. You couldn't help yourself. You were interested in this stuff.  
He smiled. You were making an absolute idiot of yourself but damned if you weren't cute.

\- Scott Lang  
You were Cassie's teacher, and a close personal friend of Cassie's mother, Maggie. You two had grown close, and you often spoke to her via phone conversations about her daughter or just your lives. You became, what's the word...  
Girlfriends.  
When parent-teacher interviews came up, you knew she'd be first in line to talk to you. Or, at least, that's what you thought. But three weeks went by, and whilst somebody had booked to see you as Cassie's parent, you didn't recognize the name. It wasn't Maggie, that's for sure.  
"I'm sorry, but who the hell is Scott Lang?" You asked into the phone, trying to remember the name of the man Maggie had last been dating. You could have sworn it was Matt.  
"Oh, that's...." She paused. "That's Cassie's father." She finally finished. The phone was silent for a minute  
"The man who was sent to jail before Cassie was even born?" You asked in shock.  
"Yes. I wasn't going to let him do this, but... He's really changed. He's Cassie's hero now, and I decided that maybe I should let them be... family. He's a nice guy, Y/N, I promise."  
So the parent-teacher evening rolled around and the night was finishing up. You only had one more interview, and he was five minutes late already.  
Suddenly, he burst through the door, wearing the weirdest suit and biker helmet you had ever seen. He was panting tiredly and his hair was a ruffled mess.  
"Hi." He panted, walking over and taking a seat across the table from you. "I am just so, so sorry that I was late. I was finishing up some work and I totally lost track of time. Sorry!" he reiterated.  
He wasn't at all what you expected. He had a dopey smile and a dorky charm to him. Not to mention, he was cute. Not the prisoner you had been imagining  
"Hi, I'm Y/N, Cassie's teacher." You said, holding out your hand. He took it, shaking it excitedly.  
"Hi, I'm Scott Lang, Cassie's Dad. She talks about you a lot, you know. You are her favorite teacher. She likes how you draw little pictures of animals next to her marks. She was so proud of her dolphin. It's still up on the fridge." He rambled. You guessed he didn't have much experience with this sort of stuff since he was trying so hard to make a good impression. You hated to admit it, but it was working.

\- Bucky Barnes  
You were a Wakandan Therapist, one of the best in the business. Generally, you served the Wakandan royalty like Shuri or T'Challa, even occasionally Ramonda. However, one day, T'Challa brought you a white man that desperately needed your help. He had anger problems and unresolved issues, but you see deep in his eyes that he was a soft soul. You accepted the job, and thirty minutes later you were sitting in your office, across from him, watching him.  
"Hello." He finally said, breaking the silence between the two of you. You jumped at the suddenness of his voice, something that did not go unnoticed. "Are you alright?" He asked. He was concerned, genuinely. He knew he was a monster, or at least he thought so.  
"No, I'm alright, just a little... skittish. That's all." You said, adjusting your glasses and shaking your head. "I should introduce myself. I'm Y/N." You said, bowing your head respectfully like you did with all your clients.  
"I'm James. James Barnes, but..." His voice trailed off before he finished, something you weren't going to let go.  
"but....?" You asked, prompting him.  
"I'd like it if you called me... Bucky." He finally said, lowering his gaze away from you. You gave him a warm friendly smile.  
"Of course, Bucky." You said. He looked back up, and for a second, you swear you almost saw him smile.

\- Steven Strange  
You were assistant to the Ancient One.  
"He's looking at you again." The Ancient One stated as the two of you watched the students practice with there sling rings. Our attention was pointed at one of the students at the front of the class, a Mr. Stephen Strange, who had come in a few days ago. He was stubborn and seemed to be having trouble taking up magic.  
"He isn't looking at me." You stated stubbornly. "He's probably looking at you. You ARE the Ancient One." You said, making another valid point. You were good at that. As the Ancient One's assistant, you were very good at making points and teaching lessons. It was your thing.  
His portal was sicking around at about the size of a dinner plate. He was trying, and he was getting better, but he still needed help.  
"He did so well in the mountains..." The Ancient One said wistfully.  
You rolled your eyes. "Perhaps the difference is that his life isn't at stake this time." You said.  
"I think he's being distracted." She said, smirking and elbowing you in the ribs playfully.  
Stephen growled and the portal disappeared. He shook his head in anger and muttered something under his breath.  
The Ancient one shook her head. "Go help the poor man, Y/N. He's going to give himself a heart attack." she sighed.  
You wandered over to the man, walking around him in a small circle. His body seemed to tense when you came near, but you tried your best to ignore it.  
"Widen the position of your feet." You said, pausing to the left of him. "Straighten this arm." You said, tapping his left arm. "And close your eyes. I promise it helps." You finished.  
"Alright." He mumbled, closing his eyes. For a moment, nothing happened. He breathed in, focusing his energy. Finally, the portal began to open, growing in size until it was big enough to walk through. You saw Wong's library through the portal and smiled.  
"Good choice." You said, and he finally opened his eyes, looking at the portal. A slow smile crept onto his face.  
"I did it." He said, in awe. The portal only stuck around for a minute or so, before disappearing into thin air leaving only an onslaught of sparks.  
"I'm impressed, and I'm sure the Ancient one will be too." You said, waving at her. She nodded at the two of you, and you turned back to him.  
"I'm Y/N, assistant to the Ancient One." You said, bowing your head as you introduce yourself.  
"I'm-" Stephen started but you cut him off.  
"I know who you are. You're Stephen Strange. The Ancient One has told me a lot about you." you said, turning and walking away, a sly smile creeping onto your features as you walked past the Ancient One.  
"What are you doing, Y/N?" The Ancient one asked you as you walked past but before you could answer, Strange shot past her towards you.  
"What sort of stuff? Y/N?!? Y/N, what sort of stuff has she told you?" Stephen said, tailing after you. You let out a cruel cackle, continuing to walk away. The Ancient One smirked, immediately shipping the living sh*t out of you two.

-Peter Parker  
You'd be friends since you were young kids, living in the same building and spending a lot of time together. so I'm going to substitute this with when you found out he was Spiderman.  
You were both hanging out together on a Friday afternoon after school, a tradition of yours that went back years ago.  
"So, what are we marathoning tonight?" He asked, opening up his DVD chest. You were both old-fashioned, you liked having a DVD copy of the movie instead of a digital.  
You thought for a bit, before speaking. "I was thinking about an Alien Marathon. We haven't done that in forever."  
"You're right. Let's do that. I'll put the disc in if you make popcorn." He said. You smiled and nodded, jumping off of the sofa and running over the kitchen. You were about halfway through making popcorn when something out of the window drew your attention. A fire in the building next to you.  
"Peter!" You yelled to get his attention. He ran over, looking out the window at the fire. The color drained from his face as he looked out.  
You knew some of the people who lived there, and you wished you could go and help, but you're only you and you couldn't do anything.  
Peter, however, dove away into his room. "I'll be back soon!" He yelled, shutting the door.  
"Where are you going?" You yelled, but you heard no response. A minute later, you saw the red spider-figure swing through the sky. You weren't stupid, you put two and two together.  
Fifteen minutes later, the fire was out. Spider-man had saved two people, a woman, and her baby, from the building. He didn't even stick around to talk to the police, only swinging away. You heard a thump from inside Peter's room, followed by scuffling and the sound of someone running around, inside. YYou crossed your arms and scowled at the door. Eventually, it opened and a scruffled Peter walked out.  
"Sorry about that. I was just-" He started when he saw your sour look, but you cut him off.  
"You were just being Spiderman?" You asked, though you clearly knew the answer.  
"No, no, what are you talking about? I'm not-" He started, shifting from side to side on his feet and avoiding your eyes, which was a sure-fire sign that he was lying.  
"Before you say anything else, you should know that your shirt is on inside out and back-to-front." You hissed, pulling on the tag in plain view. You glared at him. He opened his mouth as if to say something else but quickly shut it again. For a moment, everything was quiet.  
"You have to promise me that you won't tell a soul! This is my biggest secret!" He exclaimed. He was telling the truth, you could tell, and as angry as you were, you weren't going to ruin his life. He was still your friend. You anger began to melt away. You had to admit, it was kind of impressive, your best friend being spiderman all these years.  
"Sure thing, Spider-boy." You finally said, smirking in a teasing way as you walked away from him and towards the TV.  
"You know that's not my name, Y/N!" He all but whined, following you.


End file.
